Best Laid Plans
by corneroffandom
Summary: Sequel to "Connections". Cyrus can only think of one way out of the mess he's in.


"I don't know," Cyrus Foley says dubiously as the plan is laid out before him.

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course," he says, frowning. "But this... could backfire."

Mel Boudreau sighs and nods, "It could, but it's all I can think of. This is bad, Cyrus. Very bad."

He nods back at her grimly, biting at his upper lip thoughtfully. "If it'll keep the Coopers and you safe," he finally says after a few more minutes of thought, "I'll do it."

Her eyes flash briefly and she grips his hand dangerously. "You should want to do this for yourself too, don't be so noble and self-sacrificial that you kill yourself. The point of this is to _save_ you."

He swallows at the intensity behind her gaze and smiles. "What would I do without you to remind me of little things like this?"

She just huffs and glares at him but eventually his beaming face makes her relax little by little. "Why can't I stay mad at you?" she sighs, squeezing his hand.

"Because you like me too much," he says in a forced cheeky kind of way but the comment ups the tension.

"You know it's more than like," she sighs before changing the topic. "Anyway, let's go through what the plan is one more time, just so I can be sure you'll get the timing close."

"Aye aye ma'am," he nods, leaning over to look at her notes once more, a now more gentle smile toying with his lips.

---------

The next day, Buzz notes a kind of nervous energy coming from Cyrus-- who comes down looking rumpled and tired, his eyes red and painful looking. When he's at Company, Mel comes in for coffee and to see her favorite conman, but she too looks stressed and anxious. He's out of the loop on_ something_ and he doesn't like it.

After all, it wasn't that long ago that Cyrus had nearly died from a bullet wound to the chest, even though the only sign of that is the rare times when Buzz catches him coming out of the shower, a dull shiny scar just far enough away from his heart that he had been spared.

Buzz isn't stupid, he knows the syndicate is still out there, a fact made obvious by the police detail sent by Frank to follow Cyrus around. Frank still doesn't like Cyrus but as long as Cyrus is engrained in his family-- works for Company, stays at Marina's since Buzz doesn't like him staying at the cheap place that's more like a motel than an apartment, even when he's not being chased by criminal masterminds-- Frank will do what he can to keep the man safe, Buzz knows this.

So it almost doesn't surprise Buzz when he just happens to catch Cyrus sneaking out the back of Company, a tense look on his scruffy face. "Dammit," the older man mutters, slamming a towel down on the floor of the storage closet he had been digging through for supplies. "What do you think you're doing?" He feels betrayed for no real reason-- thought that Cyrus stopped hiding things from him after the whole trip to Australia, even though he knows the kid usually only hides things to try to protect him. "Why can't you just let us protect you for once?" he groans, pushing himself up off the floor.

With a quick glance around to make sure no one's watching, he too sneaks out of the backdoor and tries to figure out which way Cyrus went.

-----------

It's a horrid place to die, Cyrus decides upon first glance at the dull grey stoned building. There's no beauty here or imagination, just bland, crumbling rock. It doesn't appeal to him at all. It would, however, appeal to the mob with how well it blends in to the area. He pats his hidden pocket, to make sure, before entering the building.

"Stop right there," a somewhat familiar voice cuts through the gloom. He's surrounded within a blink, the syndicate members seemingly coming out of nowhere. He swallows as they circle him, sneers and overly confident glares on their faces. "So you're the great Cyrus Foley..." the voice continues and he places it with a sudden throb of pain coming from his chest.

"You're the one who shot me," he says, his jaw twitching slightly.

"Ah. I didn't think you'd remember, you were so busy thrashing about in pain," the man says thoughtlessly, a stereotypical looking syndicate member with gelled back black hair, a well-pressed suit covering him, the only hint to how dangerous he is the pistol gleaming in one hand. "That was a fun kill-- except you're a stubborn one, and here you are. Here I am. What should we do about that?"

Cyrus shakes his head. "Do what you want, but I want you to leave Springfield. There are good people here, they don't need this."

"You know, I don't know how _good_ they are, but I have no plans on staying here." He picks at his fingernails thoughtlessly. "This town is just... _boring._ There is no _style _here. Unlike Chicago, am I right, boys?" The circle of mob members-- who all look indistinguishable from one another to Cyrus-- buzzes in agreement.

Cyrus rolls his eyes. "Speaking of boring. Wanna just finish what you came here for already? Or should I do your job for you?" He pulls something out of his jacket pocket and the men all tense.

"Do my job for me? Would you honestly make it that simple for me?" the man asks with a hoarse laugh, his eyes locked on the needle Cyrus holds up.

"If it'll make you leave Springfield and return to tormenting Chicago," he says, popping the cap off with a steady finger, "yeah. I'd love to take the pleasure of murdering me from you. By the way, how is your boss liking jail anyway?" This question causes enough of an uproar that Cyrus takes advantage of the distraction and plunges the needle into his flesh, hitting a vein just so and... a liquid fire surges up his arm, causing him to gasp briefly.

"You act as if this is a victory," Stefan Hernandez says thoughtfully, stepping closer as Cyrus' knees give out and he falls to the ground, breath labored. "I prefer killing my targets personally, yes, but watching them gasp for breath is what it is, it doesn't matter who caused it. The end result is always the same."

Cyrus loses feeling in his hands and drops the needle to the ground finally, his eyes closing as his heart struggles to beat, the sound drowning out Hernandez's words. Barely forty seconds after injecting himself with the needle, he falls limply to the ground, his breaths fading.

One of the nameless mob members step closer and nudges him with the toe of his thick work boots, a cruel smirk appearing on his face as Cyrus' leg slips to the side lifelessly. He leans over and checks for a pulse, hand lingering around his throat only as long as neccessary. "He's dead, boss."

Stefan shrugs and spits on Cyrus, turning to address his men. "Let's get out of here," he says. "There's no point in even wasting a bullet."

They're just out of the building when running footsteps head towards Cyrus, trembling hands lifting him up off the cold cement floor. "You idiot, you idiot," Buzz whispers, screams, begs all at once, shaking him. "What did you do? What? We had this handled, we did! How could... how could... Oh God." He buries his face in Cyrus' neck, shaking even harder. "You idiot."

He's so far gone that he notices nothing until someone tries pulling Cyrus from him and he fights, oh God, he _rages_ against whomever is trying to take Jenna's son away, but finally his eyes focus and a familiar voice breaks through the rushing in his ears and he swallows-- whispers, "Mel?"

"Yes! Buzz, you have to let him go, I can fix this!" she demands, slapping his hands off of her wrists. She catches sight of his pale, horrified face and vows to apologize later but right now-- she quickly pulls Cyrus' shirt apart, snapping off the first three buttons to reveal his chest and stabbing a needle into him, injecting him with the liquid inside. She checks his breathing and shakes her head, quickly beginning mouth to mouth. "Buzz," she says between emergency breathing. "Get the second syringe from my bag."

He shakes his head once more and spots the black bag laying a few feet away, and he quickly scrambles towards it. There's a capped syringe close to the top, lying in wait, and he frees it from the confines, pressing it into Mel's hand. She uses her teeth to uncap it and stabs it into Cyrus' chest, quickly rubbing the area around it.

"Come on, Cyrus, come on, come on. This plan... has to work..." she says, quickly breathing into his mouth once more and following it up with compressions. "Come on, come on."

Time seems to stop as she continues working on him and Buzz falls back, staring at Cyrus' chest, watching for him to breathe, twitch, _anything_ but nothing's happening, Jenna's dogtag lies motionlessly against his skin, its surface dull in the muted light coming from the windows. "No," he whispers when nothing happens. "Dammit, no!"

As if in answer, Cyrus jerks upright suddenly, gasping for air as his body fights to survive-- Mel immediately sits him up, holds him close to her and whispers soothing things to him. "You're ok, you're ok."

Buzz sits motionless, eyes welling with tears, until the man whispers, "Did it work?"

"Yes," she breathes against his throat. "It did, it did."

Cyrus grimaces and moves to rub at his chest but his hand loses strength half way up and drops back onto the floor with a slapping sound that makes Buzz flinch. This movement sends Cyrus' dull eyes his way and he blanches. "Buzz? What're you doing here?"

"You idiot," is all he manages, his head and heart so cluttered he can barely piece together two thoughts, much less properly answer Cyrus' question. He turns away from the scene, closing his eyes against the memory of Cyrus lying still and dead _again _only feet away_._ "Dammit." He slams his fist against the hard concrete floor and hisses. "Dammit."

Cyrus feels moderately stronger now, even though his ears are ringing and he's a little dizzy. He pats Mel's hand. "Give us a minute?"

"Can you sit up alone?" she asks softly, her lips pursing even as he nods. "I'll check on the ambulance." Buzz or no, they need to finish the plan-- she won't let it be all for nothing, not after all of this.

"Ok," he murmurs as she leaves reluctantly. "Buzz?" He grimaces, scooting over bit by bit. He is still dizzy and kind of weak but he needs to explain himself to Buzz, apologize-- all of that fun stuff. "Buzz, look at me."

He's only a few inches away when Buzz spins and slaps his palms against his chest, startling him. "Damn you!" he yells. "Why do you keep scaring me like this?! Is it _fun _for you!? HUH? What is it about me that makes you do this kind of crap?"

Cyrus grimaces as his already abused sternum and chest protest against Buzz repeatedly slamming his hands into his upper body but he endures it, breathing shallowly as he lifts his hands and this time succeeds-- gripping Buzz's upper arms. "I'm sorry, alright? I'm sorry. You weren't supposed to be a part of this at all. It was the only thing I could think of-- to stop the syndicate." Buzz stops pounding against his chest, which is a relief, but his eyes are swimming with tears and Cyrus shakes his head, feeling horrible. "If they thought I was dead, they'll leave town and your family would be safe."

Buzz looks warningly at him. "_Your _family! YOURS. How many times do I have to tell you?!"

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, our family," he rectifies, and Buzz finally calms down enough to truly look at him.

"Jesus, you look horrible," he breathes, finally realizing what he's been doing the last five minutes-- pounding on an already injured man. "Oh God." He pulls away and looks down at Cyrus' bruised chest, his eyes locked on blood oozing from the desperately created needle marks. "I'm an idiot."

"Don't," Cyrus argues, squeezing his arm and closing his eyes in exhaustion. "Yeh didn't know-- I'd have been pissed too." Now that Buzz isn't as angry, he's becoming sleepy and his accent is thickening.

Buzz deftly slips a hand around his shoulder and pulls him closer in case he falls asleep, tugging his shirt back together to hide his abused chest. "What's the rest of the plan?"

"Um," he whispers, lulled closer to sleep by Buzz's warmth. "Mel's checking on the ambulance now, it'll transport me to this clinic on the outskirts of Springfield... I'll be declared DOA, and then I'll go into hiding."

"What? Hiding? Where?" Buzz's horror returns but Cyrus is so weak looking pressed against his side that he fights against the anger.

"Wouldn't be hiding if I told you, now would it?" he says, still sarcastic even in a half-asleep state. Buzz growls a little, the slight sound enough to wake Cyrus up a bit more. "It's the only way, Buzz. If I don't do this, they'll come after the family. I can't let that happen."

"For how long?"

"I don't know," he says with a sigh. "However long it takes."

"Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?" Buzz demands, suddenly realizing something else to be mad about. "You didn't tell any of us!" 

"Mel was going to let you all know," he says vaguely, scrubbing at his eyes as he reluctantly pulls away and stares at Buzz, dragged completely from the draw of sleep by the anger in Buzz's voice. "This is supposed to be a secret, it's bad that even you know, Buzz. If they ever suspect I'm alive, they'll go for you first..." He looks frustrated. "It wasn't s'posed to be like this."

Buzz slams his fist once more on the ground, not even reacting to the jarring pain this time. "You're right, it wasn't, dammit. I... I just found you," he grounds out, looking away.

"I know. It's not fair," he mutters. "I don't want to leave, you have to believe that. I just-- I can't help it, it's this or risk you all even more-- and I've caused you all enough pain between Harley, Marina, what all Grady's done, the stolen diamonds... my time in Springfield's been one long chain of mistakes, and this is the only way I can think of to fix it."

Buzz's anger drains in the flood of Cyrus' pain and he grabs him round the neck, pulling him closer in an awkward hug. "You listen to me, the _instant_ it's safe, you come home, you hear me? The INSTANT. Or I will hunt you down and drag you back by your hair if I have to."

Cyrus laughs hitchingly, tears pricking at his eyes now, and nods.

"Promise me," Buzz insists, squeezing him tighter.

"Fine, fine, I promise."

"Good." He releases Cyrus and pulls back to look him over, catalogue every last detail of the man's face-- so much like Coop's, he still feels stupid for not noticing the resemblence while Coop was still with them, so he could've honestly had a chance at getting to know his brother--, when the door to the warehouse opens quietly.

"Guys?" It's Mel. Cyrus' hand on his arm tightens slightly. "It's time."

Buzz shakes his head. "But--"

"We have to do it now, or we'll never do it," Cyrus whispers and Buzz somehow grasps the hidden meaning behind those words-- _Do it now or he'll lose his nerve, and never leave,_ he thinks, gazing at the watery eyes of the conman who became like a son to him.

"Ok," he shudders reluctantly, standing. It's tempting to delay, stall, make Cyrus lose his nerve but it's honorable what Cyrus is doing, it is, and he can't stop him-- he understands, after all, what it's like to leave people behind to protect them-- even if it is merely from one's ineptitude at fatherhood and being a husband. He's halfway to the door when he stops and says slowly, "Cyrus?"

"Yeah?"

"You're a good man. Please... don't forget that, ever, and take care of yourself."

"You too," he says, and Buzz thinks he can hear tears in the man's voice but he doesn't turn to find out.

He slaps his forearm against the door and pushes it open, breathing in the cooling evening air with desperate gasps. It honestly feels like something has him around the throat, draining the life from him. He's left a lot of people behind in his life for a myriad of reasons but he thinks this possibly hurts the most.

_This is the miniseries of stories that just doesn't want to end. I was kind of considering wrapping this whole storyline up here but I couldn't bring myself to, haha. There may be a fourth down the road, I'm not sure._


End file.
